After a long day of chaos at UA, Aizawa finally dragged himself into his apartment, looking as though he had personally fought every single student's quirk. He let out a low groan as he kicked the door shut, dropped his bag, and collapsed onto the couch like a puppet with its strings cut.

Meanwhile, I—a very hungry cat—was not impressed.

He had carried me home on his shoulder, which, sure, was cozy. But now that we were here, my stomach had other priorities. I jumped down from the couch, landing gracefully despite my desperate hunger, and let out the loudest, most pitiful meow I could manage.

Aizawa opened one eye and squinted at me. "What now?"

I meowed again, this time pacing in front of him like an alarm that wouldn't snooze. Feed me, you coffee-powered sloth! How hard is this to figure out?

He sighed, sitting up with the energy of a man being asked to climb a mountain after running a marathon. "Wait... did I forget to feed you?"

Did you seriously just ask that question?

He stared at me for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Food. You probably need that, huh?"

Ding ding ding! Give the man a prize.

Dragging himself to the kitchen, Aizawa started rummaging through the cabinets. I followed closely, tail swishing impatiently. He mumbled to himself as he scanned the shelves. "I don't have cat food. What do stray cats even eat? Do I look like the kind of person who owns a pet?"

I let out a sharp "Mrrrow!" which roughly translated to, I don't care about your life story—just feed me before I waste away!

He pulled out a can of tuna, holding it up like it was a priceless treasure. "This work for you?"

I meowed enthusiastically, already imagining the glorious taste of sustenance.

Aizawa grabbed a bowl, dumped the tuna into it, and set it on the floor. "Here. Bon appétit, or whatever."

Finally! I practically pounced on the bowl, devouring the tuna like it was the first meal I'd had in weeks—which, let's be honest, wasn't far from the truth.

Aizawa leaned against the counter, watching me with a raised eyebrow. "You eat like a starving animal. Oh, right. You are one."

Ha ha. Very funny, Mr. Dry Humor.

Once I finished, I sat back, licking my paws clean and giving him what I hoped was a look of dignified gratitude. He crouched down, meeting my gaze with a rare softness in his tired eyes.

"You're a pain, you know that?"

I meowed, tilting my head. And yet, here we are.

He sighed, standing back up and stretching. "Don't get used to this. I'm not keeping you."

Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.

As he shuffled off, muttering something about "getting five hours of sleep if I'm lucky," I hopped back onto the couch, curling up into a little ball. My belly was full, the couch was comfy, and for now, I had a roof over my head.

It wasn't perfect, but hey—it could've been worse.